Jewels
by finite
Summary: m/m *slash*. Draco discovers something- no, not actually jewels :) Harry. Ron. Hermione. Snape...and my guest appearance has decided to write himself into the plot. Seduction and angst galore.
1. Bittersweet

A/N: WARNING: This contains some SLASH material.  
  
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.  
  
  
  
  
Jewels  
  
  
  
And so I said to her:  
  
How doth the fickle weather fair on your far side of town?  
Hath bird and bee both acknowledged it, and consented to fly down?  
From lightest autumn air unto its golden crown,  
Which soon will drop its many jewels onto ungrateful ground.  
  
  
  
  
Draco gazed absently at his feet, letting the refreshing crunch of the leaves beneath them drown away his thoughts. Ahhh…monotonous oblivion. He felt something bordering on peace. The air bright and sharp, and the trees lining the narrow path scattered their jewels around him with every shallow breath. This was what life was about, right? Life was about living- not about thinking.  
  
Thoughts were present in a sphere around your mind, layers and layers, each more deep as it got closer to the core. Draco felt lost in it. It was suffocating and confusing. The layers alternated between conflicting answers. And he never found out what was in the core. The layers seemed eternal.   
  
He felt like he had lost something in the depth; he had lost the ability to appreciate the surface simplicity. And the entire world was left on the surface.  
  
He knew he had some spark- something that set himself from the rest, but it also isolated him. How could he explain anything to those idiots? Well aside from Crabbe and Goyle. They had a lot more to them, than most people realised. They were not academically clever and acted really stupid, but they understood his loneliness. His resentment.   
  
Life was bittersweet--well, he had heard it being said. But so far their had been an overwhelming torrent of bitterness that had succeeded in masking most of the sweet. That was just it. He had tasted the sweet- it was still on his lips, but still he had to live with the bitter. Bitter can be intoxicating- Draco thought of the muggle drink. Yes, that drink. He grinned faintly as he remembered that first time he had discovered it. He had spit it out and sworn never to trust muggle drinks again. Then came the addiction.  
  
He drew his hands out of the pockets in his robes and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Lately he had managed to push his feelings away and the surface of his mind was free for life. His reality was slipping away.  
  
Autumn was Draco's favourite time of the year. Just after the fierce and fake 'joy' of summer, and just before the icy harshness of winter.   
  
The soft moan of the wind suddenly took on an actuality. He stopped in his tracks. That couldn't be right? The moan again- this time louder. He turned cautiously and peered behind him. The Shrieking Shack was on the other side of town, so where was the source of the noise? He was about to continue on his walk when he caught a glimpse of red hair- Weasley hair. In the clearing to his right, a tiny glimpse of fire again.   
  
Draco tilted his head, and crept through the crackling leaves, wishing that he had a broom to stop his noisy footsteps. What was the Weasley boy doing? Draco smirked. He would bet anything that Granger was there with him. He stopped and placed his pale hand carefully on the nearest trunk, preparing himself for the climb up.   
  
Up and up till he came to a perfect branch with a perfect view. He shifted his position before daring to look down, rough bark indenting his fragile skin. The wind whistled past his ear; a mocking song. 'Thought you were too above the spying side, didn't you? Thought you could escape your roots?' What was with this sudden curiosity? His curiosity was given a nasty kick when he saw that not only was it not Hermione, it was Potter. The two of them were in the midst of a passionate kiss that made Draco nearly fall out of his hiding place and blush lightly. Their embrace shouted zeal and heat. Draco could not take his eyes off them. He had no idea. No idea at all, that Potter and Weasley were gay.   
  
If he squinted, he could just make out the glowing ecstasy on Ron face. His arms were protectively round Harry's waist and Harry's arms around Ron's neck, his back facing Draco. He felt something inside him break as he watched them pull apart, still so close and staring intently at each other. He hadn't realised that they could be so devious and so…well, Slytherin-like. Ron was currently in an official relationship with Hermione and Harry, with Florence from Ravenclaw. And yet here they were- the very ideals of Griffindors in red, locked together in a breath taking picture of endearment.   
  
Maybe the red wasn't just the bold pure colour of wholesome respect. It also represented lust and passion and fire.   
  
They were talking now. Their friendship and affection evident even from this high distance. He saw Ron lean down and lick Harry's neck, whispering something in his ear, that made the other boy grab his face and kiss him feverishly.   
  
Draco stared at the two boys for a minute before turning away, with glistening eyes. He felt anger, full and mind numbing, sweep over him. What were they doing? What did they have that Draco hated? Was it their love- did he want that so much? Draco climbed down the tree with reckless footsteps. The feeling was still beating through his mind when his feet touched the ground. Blind anger. Why?  
  
He tried to take in calming breaths but to no avail. He felt himself sweating slightly in his fury. What was wrong with him?!   
  
He felt dizzy and sick- the wood was spinning around him. He couldn't think straight- his mind was a whirling mass of senseless words, forming on a whim. His childhood---a memory--  
  
The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood.  
  
He fell roughly, his back to the tree trunk. Why couldn't he see- it was all black. What was happening? All he heard before he passed out, was Harry's concerned and surprised voice, and fast approaching footsteps.   
  
  
  
A/N: It will get better (I hope :) Part II is half done, but is on its way-- 'Unsatisfied equation'. Harry and Ron find that Draco has been a naughty little boy... In more ways than one ;)  
  
  
Thank you for reviews of 'Surreal??' I love reading them.   
  
  
  
Until next time.  
~finite  
  



	2. Unsatisfied equations

Part II- Unsatisfied equations   
  
  
Ron stood, wide-eyed over Draco's limp form, Harry breathed heavily and dropped to his knees.   
  
They had just been about to leave their quiet retreat, when they had seen Draco fall in a dead faint. They of course came running through the trees to see what was happening.  
  
"Do you think he saw anything?" Harry turned to Ron and back to Draco. "Malfoy? Can you hear me?" Harry put his ear to the unmoving chest and reached up to Draco's ivory neck.  
  
"He hardly has a pulse."  
  
Words flitted through Ron's mind, none of them constructive or helpful in any way… 'Of course he doesn't have a pulse- he's Beelzebub reincarnated'. His mind started to reel in a heated frenzy.  
  
Harry looked up at Ron, panic making him an image of wild beauty. Ron sucked in his breath, biting back the urge to forget about the git lying on the ground before them, in pursuit of more relevant issues.   
  
"Ron, his breathing is really shallow! What do we do...Don't just stand there!"  
  
Ron glanced at the pale boy. What were they meant to do. God, he had never been in this situation before. He was in some kind of alternate reality and this catastrophe wasn't real. What if he died? He was Malfoy, but he was still a person, still alive- wasn't he? Ron was in some kind of controlled breakdown, like the sun- a disciplined nuclear bomb, a huge mass of fire and nuclear fusion.   
  
Harry on the other hand seemed to have lost his head. His eyes were bright and frantic.  
  
"Ron! Is there a Hogsmeade nurse or something?"  
  
"Um, I dunno, I mean, ummm…I never bothered to find out, I mean…"  
  
Harry interrupted his ramblings with a ruthless urgency. "Ron! We have to fly to Hogwarts. I'll go and get the brooms. Do something to help Malfoy, um…artificial respiration or something."  
  
"Artificial what?"  
  
"You know…mouth to mouth…"  
  
"What! No way! I may be gay Harry, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to kiss any old bloke."  
  
"Ron, this is serious!"  
  
"So am I. And anyway, I have no idea how it's done."  
  
Harry bit down on his lip. He had passed a first aid class years ago when he attended primary school, and he wasn't feeling too confident about this. It could be dangerous if it went wrong, but something made Harry want to do this. He didn't understand the disgust on Ron's face or the fact that he didn't feel the same way. All that he knew was that he didn't want this boy to die. He and Draco, they were opposites. Opposites wouldn't be able to survive without each other, what was evil without good. Would white look so pure without black? They were a balance- and Harry just knew he would miss the jabs, the wit, the eloquence. No one else could possibly make Harry react like Draco did. There was no way Harry could let another human die, without doing everything he could to help them live; even if that meant saving his adversary.  
  
"Ok, Ron. Just go and get the brooms, where did we leave them...Oh yeah, The Three Broomsticks…run!"  
  
Ron was already on his way, sprinting through the trees until he disappeared from view, a confused and appalled expression on his face.  
  
Harry gave himself a mental shake. Right. Now what?  
  
He rested his hand carefully on Draco's small chest, feeling the slight warmth penetrate his skin. He thought carefully. What was it that you were meant to do first? He bent his head low over Draco's upturned face, and turned his head so that his ear was just above the other boy's pale pink lips. There was a small breath of hot air.   
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief; at least he wasn't dead.   
  
He watched for chest movements looking across Draco's form, from his bent position. He could see almost no moment- that wasn't a good sign.   
  
With his palm, he gently tilted Draco's head back, marvelling at his perfect smooth skin under his hand…  
  
  
  
Draco could feel something tugging him back to presence. He didn't want to leave the safety of this dream. It was a warm blanket of fantasy- there he was, and Harry, and Ron. Even though he knew it had to end- just a little more.  
  
Harry was facing him, something lighting up those emerald eyes. Was it Draco? Ron was in the background, but he wasn't paying them attention, he couldn't even see them. He was playing on the sand with his younger sister and his twin brothers. But here they were- Harry and him. Face to face, high on the dunes, unsheltered from the rough winds and in the efflorescence of the waking dawn. Hair, wind swept, unkempt and seductive- Harry was almost too much for Draco to take. Was this what he wanted? He who had hated Harry all of his life and now here they were together, like an unanswered question.  
  
He almost forgot to breathe as Harry stepped closer, placing his gentle hands on Draco's narrow shoulders. He was staring deep into Draco's eyes, lips parted slightly and glistening in the half-light. Draco dared not look away for fear of losing this sight. He was helplessly trapped in Harry's gaze, locking them together in time.   
  
Draco gasped slightly as Harry moved closer and their lips met.   
  
This felt too pure, so real.   
  
Draco was being pulled through the dimensions of the unconscious. He was alive to new sensations and he felt awake.  
  
He finally opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Harry's black locks and feel Harry's lips meet his own.   
  
Almost automatically, he took Harry's mouth in his own, and began to explore with his tongue.   
  
And almost automatically, Harry responded, letting Draco slip inside his mouth, nipping and sucking slowly.   
  
Was this a dream?   
  
Suddenly, they both seemed to realise that this was real. Harry took a sharp intake of breath, in utter surprise, leaving Draco lying on the grass under him, gasping for breath. They stared at each other, lips still tingling and aching slightly for more of the same, Harry looking down at the vision before him. Draco was panting, soft blonde half-curls spread around him like a halo.   
  
"I- what…What the hell were you doing Potter?" Draco spoke from his vulnerable position, staring straight up, into Harry's eyes.  
  
"What was I doing? What were *you* doing? You fainted, and I was trying to give you… artificial respiration."  
  
"What the hell is arty-- respiration, and why the hell did you have to do it, and where the hell am I?"  
  
Harry didn't know what to say or do. He was dazed. What did Draco just do to him?   
  
"And," added Draco, "I'm sure that…*that* wasn't going to help me breathe."  
  
"*That* is what *you* did to *me* Malfoy." Harry emphasised with sting in his tone, still leaning over the other boy, faces only inches away, lips only inches away.  
  
Harry moved from his place over Draco to sit with his back against the tree trunk, and Draco hoisted himself onto his elbows, staring intently at the other boy. He knew that he had kissed Harry first. He knew he had taken Harry, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit anything to the Griffindor boy.   
  
"It doesn't make sense Potter." He said coolly.  
  
"No, it doesn't."  
  
"I mean, that if I *did* initiate it, then why on earth did you respond?"  
  
Harry was lost for words. He broke their eye contacts, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose, where his black-framed glasses sat like a constitution.   
  
Draco continued to look at the other boy through his longish, wispy hair. He let the shock settle in his mind, - he was always the logical one, clear-headed and practical. Why did Harry kiss him back? Was it a reflex? Was he thinking of Weasley? Or even Florence?   
  
Or was there something there? Some unexpressed feeling, waiting to be given the opportunity to exist in its full form. Draco could still taste the other boys mouth on his own, and all he wanted to do was to pull him down for another life-long joining of souls. But that was out of the question. He was obviously deluded, he had fainted and felt dizzy- he must be ill. Surely it was all some far-fetched dream?  
  
Harry turned his dark head to glance at Draco once more.   
  
"Why are you staring at me?"  
  
Draco looked back at him steadily. "I was just wondering what Weasley could possibly see in you."  
  
"I see plenty thank you."   
  
Ron emanated from the depths of the wood, carrying two broomsticks.   
  
Harry and Draco both looked a little startled at his sudden appearance.   
  
"I see that you're awake, Malfoy" Ron said, only slightly out of breath as he had flown the way back.  
  
"Oh, how very observant."  
  
"And that you were obviously spying on us."  
  
Draco realised his mistake immediately. Damn.  
  
His expression remained a picture of discipline, as usual, however. His voice did not quaver or reveal his emotions.   
  
"Just casually strolling along, only to hear the call of the Weasel."  
  
Ron had the decency to blush at this last comment.   
  
He threw the broomstick at Draco without another word, and commanding his own to levitate.   
  
"Both of you?" Draco said with a smirk, masking perfectly his re-emerging anger.   
  
Harry climbed on the back of Ron's broomstick, without so much as a glance in Draco's direction.   
  
"I assume you're well enough to fly, Malfoy?" Ron asked coldly.  
  
"Fine."  
  
They ascended the colder air, until they were flying above the treetops. Draco followed the other broom without question, suddenly too tired to think about the chaos that had just crashed down upon him. He felt a wave of sickness run through him. All he could think about was the feeling that he, Draco, wanted to be on the other broom instead of Weasley. He wanted to be the one that Harry clung to in the air. He wanted Harry's hot breaths on his neck and the soft sound of Harry's voice in his ear. But how could that be. No, it wasn't right. It was so improper; how would that even be conceivable? He was a Malfoy for God's sake. His father would be furious and would probably disown him for looking at another boy never mind kissing, never mind Potter. No, he could never be free. He could never sing his own song. He was duty bound.   
  
  
  
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed Part I. The confusion does get better, I promise. If you think it is really un-understandable (I have no idea where I got that word from :) , please tell me so that I can improve.   
  
Sorry I posted the last chapter so many times, it would let me submit it.  
  
Part III of 'Surreal??' is up, called 'The Reckless Sleeper' if anyone's interested? *smirks*… BTW, do you prefer this series to 'Surreal??' Please let me know.  
  
Bye.  
~finite   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Webweaving

  
Part III- Webweaving  
  
  
Ron sat, eyeing the clock on the wall, his head in his hands. How come the second hand seemed to be going backwards? The clock ran on magic, but did that mean that it had to act funny?  
  
Professor Binns' droning voice had lulled the class into its customary stupor, until….  
  
The class breathed a sigh of relief as Binns stopped his tedious reading and gave them their homework. It was the only lesson in which the pupils waited eagerly for this assigning of extra work. They drew themselves away from the doze, filing out the classroom, left with the exhaustion aftermath of a semi-coma.   
  
Ron, Harry and Hermione lingered in the doorway for Florence to say goodbye to her Ravenclaw mates. She joined them and they walked slowly down the corridor, talking about the Weird Sisters and their forthcoming appearance in the Three Broomsticks.   
  
"Well, Ysabell said that they are thinking of charging people to enter…Oh dear God."  
  
The other three followed her shocked expression to the tall cloaked figure, marching towards them. The jet-black fabric billowed around him as he strode towards them, long legs stretching out before him.   
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
"It's Snape."  
  
He had apparently undergone some miraculous transformation; his hair was cropped short and clean (!!!), he had donned a very smart black outfit with a jade lining and silver fastenings, and he looked a lot more alive than usual- the sallow tint of his skin being diminished.   
  
When he approached, however, the familiar sneer was still there to greet them.   
  
"Potter, Weasley, a word if you please."   
  
They began to follow him, in stunned silence, barely offering the girls a farewell. What had he done to himself? All four of them were bewildered and overwhelmed by his new-found good looks. And they all had to acknowledge (reluctantly) that he *did* have good looks. A long nose, high brow and refined cheekbones, but it was the intelligent, cynical and cruel glint in his eye that make him traffic stopping, it was always there but now it seemed to twinkle at them with a coyness.   
  
He led them down the maze of corridors.  
  
"I heard that you two brought Draco Malfoy in here yesterday."  
  
Harry and Ron nodded, waiting expectantly for the unexpected…and here it came.  
  
"If you have anything to do with Malfoy's illness, I will personally take the matter straight to the headmaster. If you think that you can get away with beating Malfoy and, placing blame, and blackmailing him into secrecy, then you have another thing coming. Do you understand me?"   
  
The boys gaped at him.  
  
"We didn't…how did you come to that conclusion?"  
  
"It is not difficult to heal bruises and wounds, Weasley. All it needs is a little research and half a brain…then again, being you…"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it.  
  
"One more thing." Snape said as they neared the staff room. "I want you to take Malfoy his Potions homework for me. Wait out here." With that, Snape stepped inside the staff room to retrieve the parchment.   
  
Harry turned to Ron with a dumbfounded expression.  
  
"What was all that about?"  
  
"Yeah." Responded Ron. "I never thought I would say this, but he looks hot."  
  
"I meant," Harry said, smirking. "About blaming us for Malfoy's faint, when we're the ones who helped him."  
  
"Oh, yeah." Ron said, ears turning pink. "But I suppose it was us, I mean he did catch us…in the act. And that's why he fainted…what a homophobic idiot."  
  
"Shhh…"  
  
The door creaked open after a minute, and Snape handed them the scroll.   
  
"He's in the hospital wing. You can visit him now, I have given my permission to Madame Pomphrey."  
  
Harry and Ron made their way to the hospital wing, talking in irate voices.  
  
"Permission! You would think he was doing *us* a favour."   
  
Harry pushed open the infirmary doors and looked around for a head of blonde hair. He spotted Draco lying in the far corner, staring with nonchalance at the ceiling. They went over to his bedside and dropped the scroll on the bed-side table.   
  
Draco had spent the last night thinking about his reaction to the scene he had witness, and although unwilling to admit it, he knew inside that he was attracted to Harry. It was the anger that confused him. The anger had been intense and overpowering; both a sharp cut and a dull ache, but why was it there? Draco had pondered over this all night. He had prided himself on his level-head and rational thinking, yet he couldn't concentrate on the reasons behind the emotion when the effects were still so clear in his mind.   
  
The morning had come with a certain amount of understanding; he knew that he wanted Harry, and he was jealous. He was jealous of their relationship, of Ron's claim on Harry, and the ease with which Ron could touch Harry- kiss Harry.   
  
Being the ambitious Slytherin that he was, Draco had laboured all afternoon to come up with a way in which to over-come his problem. He could ignore his problem. But that would eat him up inside, devour him slowly. And so would thinking about it. This really was a dilemma.  
  
He had to find out what he wanted. He had to find out what Harry wanted- what could happen. And he had the beginnings of an answer. Quite a few years ago, just before Draco was old enough for Hogwarts, he had been in his father's study. It was forbidden of course to touch his father's things, but Draco was an inquisitive young boy and always hungry for knowledge- even more hungry for prohibited knowledge. His father had gone on one of his long over-seas trips and Draco was alone in the house with only the house elves for company. He had taken the opportunity to look at the books on his father's shelf, and so he came to know about a certain dark-arts volume.  
  
He had turned each page, becoming more and more enthralled by the ideas and notions concealed there. He was, as a youth, more interested in the gruesome spells. And only now, looking back, he realised the full potential, the possibilities hidden within those pages. It was all dangerous, he knew. They all the charms and potions had effects and consequences, but wasn't it worth it for this?  
  
Fate had handed him the perfect opportunity. He was going to be on his way in just a few hours for recuperation time, and now, a little sneaking around.   
  
This was dark magic. Evil- its danger was in its disguise as innocence.   
  
It was so very innocent- just a journey, with no damage to the victim.  
  
Harry wouldn't be hurt.  
  
Draco was going to play with his unconscious. Draco was going to play with fire.   
  
He was awoken from his thoughts, but a movement to his left. Draco turned his head to see his mind's intruders. And there they were- Harry and Ron. Together.  
  
"Potter, Weasley." He said silkily.  
  
"Malfoy." Ron replied coldly.  
  
"Your potions homework." Harry indicated the parchment resting on the table.  
  
"Why, thank you. Just what I've always wanted."  
  
"Snape sent us, Malfoy. We didn't ask to come here." Ron added.  
  
Harry looked over the pale boy as the tennis match of insults began to ensue. He felt like there were so many things unresolved. He needed to talk with Draco, and soon. The boy looked exhausted. His eyes were large and puffy, and he was almost translucent.   
  
They left the infirmary, Harry listening to Ron's rants about Draco. But Harry's mind wasn't on Draco. Well, not on Draco 'the git' or Draco 'the bastard'. Harry was thinking about Draco the boy who had fainted yesterday and woken up to a kiss. They really needed to talk.  
  
  
  
He encouraged Ron to go down for dinner with Hermione, giving the excuse of a bit of a head ache- an excellent justification for going to the hospital wing. Harry knew, however, that Madame Pomphrey's prying eyes would surely spot his falsehood, and he could just turn up and march in without a reason. He decided that the best way to overcome the problem, just as was usually the easiest way- taking the invisibility cloak. It was so much easier to be unseen. Nothing was required of you. You could fade away like part of the scenery.   
  
Leaving the Griffindor common room, Harry walked down the echoing corridors with the invisibility cloak over his head, until he reached the infirmary doors yet again.  
  
Nobody noticed the doors slide open carefully, or the whisper of footsteps on the floor. Harry made no disturbance to fabricated calm of the hospital wing. He crept cautiously over to Draco's bed, aware of the rustle of curtains, as he stepped inside the enclosed area. Some of the other patients were already asleep, but Draco was awake and reading calmly- peacefully.   
  
Harry had hardly ever seen him like this. He was not so guarded or sneering, as he usually seemed around the rest of the world. He was just a boy and sitting on a bed, reading away the evening hours. Not that he was any old boy. He was Draco Malfoy- mudblood hater, elitist, and nemesis. Harry was annoyed at the little snob. How could be all those awful things and be proud of it? How could he exist as he was, and still manage to charm everyone? How come half the school was secretly admiring of him?   
  
Harry took the opportunity to study the other boy. His pale skin and pale hair. And those eyes- hard and cold, clear and cruel, searching and restricting all at once. Draco was a barrier in himself. He was a constructed front of denial and refusal, but Harry fancied that sometimes, just sometime, he could see a little further in the changing fathoms of Draco's soul, through his steely eyes.   
  
Draco brought his hand down, to rest the book on his blanketed lap. He stretched a long, slow and luxurious (oh, and sensuous) stretch, just like a cat, then suddenly looked straight at Harry. Right into Harry's eyes- startled and unprepared, as Harry had never seen before.   
  
Harry immediately realised that the cloak had slipped off.   
  
Draco was obviously surprised at himself. He stumbled slightly over his words.  
  
"Oh, Potter. Didn't see you there."  
  
Harry was glad that the other boy hadn't found about the cloak. Knowledge was definitely power, especially with someone like Draco. He was also taken aback at the lack of insults lining that greeting.   
  
"Um, I though we should…talk about what happened."  
  
Drcao shifted his position, sitting up slightly to get a better view of him.  
  
Harry moved forward awkwardly to sit on the end of the metal bedstead, tucking the cloak safely within the folds of his robes. Now that he was here, the subject of the intended conversation was breaking down. What was he supposed to say?   
  
Draco rescued the situation by starting with…  
  
"What did happen, Potter."  
  
"You know what I'm talking about Malfoy." Harry said rather irritably.  
  
"No. I meant." Draco said with a slight smile at Harry's inability to recognise Draco's skillful changes in tone. "I meant, it's not what happened that is important. It is the meaning behind it that makes the difference and really matters. It is how we perceive things, Potter. Most things are relational." It had taken the people around him- the people in his house- years to master and understand the changes in Draco's meaning by the subtlety of his tone.   
  
Harry marvelled at the boy's insight. He wasn't just a pretty face.   
  
"What did it mean to you?" Draco continued, looking at Harry with a suddenly serious edge.  
  
"I...don't know." Harry said honestly.  
  
This somehow offered Draco a kind of solace. At least Harry hadn't been disgusted by it.  
  
"How about you?" Harry eyed him carefully and added with a threatening air, "You can't tell anybody about our relationship."  
  
"Oh can't I?" Draco responded. He didn't even think about telling anybody, but the customary battle was involuntarily taking place.   
  
"You can. But don't forget Malfoy, that I have some dangerous information too." Harry looked Draco directly in the eye. "I know that your father will not approve."  
  
Well that was putting it lightly. Draco was half-amused and half-horrified. Harry certainly wasn't the golden boy he seemed. Draco was learning more about him every time he met him- Harry was not unfamiliar obviously, to the concept of blackmail.   
  
"Well, lets just say that the rest of the world can be kept in the dark from both secrets."  
  
Harry nodded in approval. There was a pause.  
  
"You never told me what you thought about…the kiss."   
Draco looked pensive for a moment.   
  
"Potter, what's done is done."  
  
Harry saw no point in pressing the issue further; Draco was evidently far too traumatised to speak about it.   
  
He moved over to the deep blue curtains and peeked out to find a conveniently empty and quite room. The light was dim overhead, but outside the moon was in full view spilling milky liquid over the adjacent clouds. He turned once more to Draco giving a slight nod as a neutral parting, and with a swish of velvet fabric, he was gone.  
  
Draco looked at the space where Harry had been, his eyes unfocussed. He had a lot to think about, but he was too tired. Draco had always been a weak boy, but he realised that he was merely weak in body, not in mind or soul. A wave of sickness had not hit since he was ten, so he knew that it could be just any old miscellaneous bout of illness. He knew it was influenced- inspired- by Harry. And that scared him. It wasn't really illness though. It was just the shock of seeing…of seeing…  
  
Throwing himself off the bed, he pulled his black cloak over his thin shoulders and crept out of the infirmary.   
  
His soft steps wandered aimlessly down this corridor and that, until he subconsciously ended up in the Slytherin wing of the school- home to the dungeons and cold damp walls. Great. The Slytherins would get lumbered with the unrepaired side of the school. Then again, most of the school was slightly damp.   
  
He tried to get through the Slytherin entrance but the password seemed to have changed over the week and there was nobody around to ask, on account of the huge delicious dinner that was waiting downstairs. Draco grumbled to himself, and sighing a sigh that Dumbledore would have been proud of, he continued to wonder around the draughty corridors.   
  
The castle was very quite at dinner times (barring the great hall of course). Draco hadn't missed dinner too often, but the silence around him was something he was used too. It was the silence of the Malfoy household. A household that seemed to create evil then draw on it for comfort- a manifestation of all the wrong-doing that had taken place over the years. It was a closed book of history, daring you to open it, knowing that when you do you will have to pay for the evil. It was almost as if Draco hated his history. He had always been taught that his origins were noble and worthy. It had been drummed into him, but sometimes he had to question the feeling inside of him, telling him that he was in it up to his neck. He believed in things that he had no clue about. These thoughts surfaced sometimes, but they were always drowned again by the pride of his relatives. Draco though for a while- no, he couldn't really call it a home It was simply a placed where he lived. Hogwarts was more of a home than his own house ever would be.   
  
Draco came to a sudden still outside of a disused classroom. His father's voice came seeping out of the cracks in the closed door.   
  
Draco had no idea that his father had already come for him. He hadn't been expected for another hour yet. Draco was somewhat surprised when his father had offered to collect him. This was not something he was used to, and it was unsettling.   
  
But now that his father was here, surely Draco could knock on the door and see him?  
  
Except, something stopped him. Another wave of uneasiness swept over.  
  
His fathers voice was low and almost a whisper. Deep and throaty.  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
Was it his father at all? Maybe he had misheard.  
  
Draco jumped in shock, as he heard a low growl that turned into a moan. What was his father doing to the poor soul? Surely not a death-eater act right in the middle of Hogwarts.  
  
Poor naïve Draco. (A/N I can't believe I just wrote that-Draco is in no way naïve, well, maybe in this way he is. But I mean, he doesn't suspect his father is…well, you know…if you don't know, then please read on…)  
  
He couldn't stand it any longer. Taking great care not to disturb anything, he peeked through one of the cracks in the door.  
  
His breath caught in his throat as found his father and another man in the middle of a fiery kiss. Actually, it was more that they were trying to engulf each other. Draco stood wide-eyed, watching the two semi-naked people stripping and searching, touching, and kissing, bodies pressed violently close.  
  
When Draco returned enough from his state of shock to realise that he was watching his *father*, he took a deep breath. Just as he was about to pull away from the door, the other man lifted his head, and Draco saw that it was Snape.   
  
He squeaked.  
  
The two men paused, mid-act, looking around frantically.  
  
Draco seeing this, turned and fled down the corridor, heart pounding, and confusion evident in his steel grey eyes. What had he just seen? And what did it mean?   
  
His world made even less sense than before.   
  
  
  
A/N Thanks to all you lot for reviewing.   
  
Starfish Girl (thanks for your support :) love you for it) Gentle Water Soul (Not quite so short and sweet *g*) AnimeGirl, Ceitlin Malefoy, H (please tell me it's not after 'Steps' *grins again*- ignore that if you aren't from the UK) Unicorn Chick (thanks- hopefully it has a lot in store), GallientKitty, Saiko, Silver, Cali (terrible times? Me too L Thanks for your constant encouragement and torrent of reviews!!), liz, Linsay Beth (hehe, thank you), nunya (if you don't like Ron/Harry, I suggest that you don't read the rest of this-did I just say that?) Grace de Slytherin (wow, thanks. *blushes*), Julianna Priest, CrystalStarGuardian, Nykto (two hands huh? :) Krissy, and Tinuviel182.  
  
I never thought I would get this much of a response to my writing. (I was expecting a couple of reviews max when I started with my first Harry/Draco: 'Disconnected')  
Thanks again for reviewing and making me happy.   
  
~finite  
  
  
  



	4. Playing

Part IV- Playing  
  
  
Draco couldn't believe that he had actually missed this chaos while he had been back at his house. Now the noise seemed to throb around him, as though it was alive and impatient to live out the best it could. It was always the same in the morning; the echoing hall tried to dress down for the occasion, but the racket the students made as they shovelled in their breakfasts was a sufficient substitute for the lack of occasion. It was a fact however, that the larger the crowd around you, the more alone you were. In the midst of the chatter, Draco sat thinking about the last few days and what they had done for him.   
  
He was certainly better in health for his little recuperation period, but what the time had really given him, was the chance to do a little research and a little thinking.   
  
It had been awkward. Very Awkward.  
  
He didn't really know how to look at his father after the scene he witnessed. But that didn't matter much, as after the trip home, Lucius disappeared into his study and Draco didn't see him again while he was home for the weekend.   
  
He had always known that Snape had started Hogwarts when Lucius was in his 5th year.   
  
That was why Snape favoured him of course…he *knew* Draco's father…why else?   
  
But. But. This changed everything.  
  
Lucius was gay- and Draco had had no idea. He thought of his mother. Did she know? Did she care? They didn't seem to love each other. They didn't seem to be even aware of each other, as if they were living in different worlds altogether. He had gone back to his house with these thoughts jumping around in his mind. His mother. His father. His teacher.   
  
Snape had changed in Draco's eyes. It was hard to think of him in any way other than a teacher. He was almost an inanimate object incapable of feeling. It was the same with Lucius. Father. And yet he saw them together now. Why wasn't it obvious before? When had Lucius ever come to collect him?   
  
At least some of the burning questions had been answered now. His house was filled with its own history, which it sometimes yearned to tell and sometimes guarded possessively. This secret past of unfaithful men was blurted out to him as soon as he asked. The walls whispered and pulled him along until he found everything. Every detail about that story. Every unloved wife, every craving husband. Lucius' father had been abusive and abused and his father and his father- a long line of unhappiness and masked truth. A book of dark past, vengeful still to haunt Draco. And for the first time, he understood the misery that beat within the house. Each crack and corner sucking in the depression.   
  
A foul wind.  
  
But was Draco brave enough to fight it?  
  
With history over him, would his will power be enough to free him?  
  
At least the tale also spoke of homosexuals within the family. It was there but hidden by the want of tradition and 'wholesomeness'. Disgusting to hide. At least it was accepted within the stone walls. But Draco- he could feel the past in his blood; the pulse of revenge and need for satisfaction.  
  
Oh, Draco hated this. Draco hated Harry and the way Harry made him needy. He hated being what he was and being attracted to the boy. But he would have it. It was a material thing. And so Draco would have it. Denial out of the question, Harry would succumb.   
  
A clatter of chairs brought him back to the present. The hall was emptying; pupils hurrying to get to their lessons. Lessons that taught them nothing about what life really was. Some of them would never know…What makes you think that you do? What makes you so experienced?   
  
He sighed and pushed away his unfinished breakfast. Picking up his bag, he followed the crowds out into the draughty hallway.   
  
  
  
The bell sounded faintly overhead. Harry looked up and unfolded the note just passed to him by Ron. Ron seemed a little uneasy, and Harry realised why as he read the note from Florence. He grinned. Another sappy note that sent Ron into one of those jealous sulks, which he revelled in. Harry focussed on the note again, reading its contents slowly, letting a small smile flicker over his lips and knowing that Ron was watching every movement.   
  
Harry folded the paper and put it away in his robe pocket. Catching Ron's eye, he told his friend to carry on without him.  
  
Harry loved this. The way he felt needed- really wanted. And as always he pushed it a little further so that he could bask under the feeling.   
  
He watched as Ron reluctantly left the classroom with everyone else, leaving only him and Florence.   
  
Lovely Florence. Lively and funny and sweet. Harry put his arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. Feeling of soft flesh on her upper arms, warm lips and warm eyes. Harry liked these things. Oh yes. But how could it substitute the missing something? Was it missing at all?  
  
  
  
The bell sounded faintly overhead. Draco filed out with the other Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, but motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to carry on without him. He stood outside the door of the classroom taking in deliberately deep breaths.   
  
Right.  
  
This was it- what he'd been planning since the train journey back to school.   
  
What would make Harry his? What would poison that pure soul and hurt that innocent heart?   
  
Draco peered through the crack between the hinges of the door. Yes, there he was. Tall and gentle and gorgeous and brown eyes and brown curls. Undoubtedly the most beautiful, sought after pupil in school. Not for his looks alone, but for his glowing mild nature and sweet innocent charm.   
  
Perfect.  
  
But no-one had penetrated that shell, had they? Many had tried. He had a distance, invisible to those less sensitive. But Draco saw it- when Justin spoke to his fellow Hufflepuffs, when Justin was asked a question in class, when he was alone.   
  
Draco had been captivated by Justin Finch-Fletchley, as the rest of the school was. Not exactly attracted, more… admiring of him. And he had a feeling that he knew more about Justin than many other people, but would this work? Or would it blow up in his face, causing a lot of embarrassment?   
  
No. Draco thought of Harry and felt the anger rise- the need for possession. Draco had thought hard about what could draw Harry in? What could make him come to Draco? Then it had hit him. Draco only knew of two things that made him that passionate. Revenge and Jealousy. He had to try this at least.  
  
Pushing open the door, Draco crept into the room and seated himself at a desk, watching Justin work.   
  
He really was beautiful. So unsure of himself, so graceful.  
  
Draco almost forgot why he was there. He was lost in wonder at this being before him. But then Justin felt the eyes on his back and turned from his job of cleaning the blackboard to face the pale boy. He looked a little taken back.  
  
"Oh, hello Malfoy, what are you still here for?"  
  
Draco simply smiled a slow seductive smile and rose from the desk.   
  
Justin started to look a little uneasy.  
  
"I know about you Finch-Fletchley."  
  
"Oh? What do you know?" Justin looked scared. Draco liked the feeling of power.  
  
This was it. Was Draco's theory correct?  
  
"I know about you, and your loneliness, and your sexuality."  
  
Draco stepped closer.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"You're gay Fletchley, I'm sure you've realised." Draco drawled.  
  
Justin looked completely shocked but terrified.  
  
Draco breathed an internal sigh of relief. Good. This was going to plan.  
  
"What do you want from me?"  
  
"What do I want?"  
  
"I know about you Malfoys." Justin attempted to take on a threatening air. "I know that you don't like homosexuality."  
  
Draco smirked. How little Justin knew about what really went on behind stone walls.  
  
Justin fumbled.  
  
"I…There's nothing wrong with being gay."  
  
Draco felt sad suddenly. What must they think of him. Of course there was nothing wrong with being gay. He was gay himself……..What! That was the first time he thought that surfaced into his consciousness. No. He didn't care what they thought of him. It was insignificant.   
  
Draco turned his mind on the job at hand.  
  
"I never said there was. But I know why you're here…"  
  
Draco paused a moment to give Justin an intent gaze.  
  
"You want something to sate your loneliness. You want something to fill that chasm in you, and you think that recognition will serve. You want to be remembered for something, and so you're here in this classroom day after day, hoping that dedication will make up for what you really are-A worthless Hufflepuff."  
  
Draco spit the last word and saw the other boy flinch at his words. It felt like an achievement.  
  
"I can sense your dream, Fletchley. I know that you are working towards being a prefect, then Head Boy, then the world?" He laughed hollowly, an alien sound in the peace of the room. "You don't want them to know, do you? If they were to find out what an irrelevant blemish you are, they will never let you be remembered."  
  
Justin refused to meet with steely eyes, his side to Draco. He felt a cold hand on the nape of his neck.   
  
"I see you Fletchley for what you are." These words came out in a husky whisper. Draco had been wrong. He *was* attracted to this elegance in front of him, or maybe it was the control that made him crazy.   
  
Slowly, Justin raised his frightened eyes to look at Draco. How did he know? Justin thought that nobody could possibly know. Who would want to know?  
  
Draco sensed a victory.  
  
He dragged his hand across Justin's neck and along his cheekbone, making the other boy shiver slightly. His icy fingers slid down the front of his neck, over the bobbing apple and rested on his collar line, palm flat against smooth skin.   
  
Justin swallowed reflexively.  
  
"What do you want from me?" He managed to croak out for the second time.  
  
"You." Draco whispered, and pushed the boy hard where his palm lay. Justin stumbled backwards, landing hard against the wall. Immediately, Justin felt cold lips press roughly over his. A hot tongue forcing open his mouth. A kiss that took him. All of him. Selfish and deep and strong. Breathless. Feeling. An eternity of spinning worlds and burning movement. A fiery sunset and beating wings across the pain.  
  
He felt his knees give way and arms catch him as he fell.  
  
Draco smiled to himself.  
  
Tears beaded soft brown lashes. Draco seated the boy on the desk and stood back.   
  
"You're pathetic."  
  
Justin refused to look up, so Draco tilted his head harshly, forcing eye contact.  
  
Quick as lightning, a sharp slap.  
  
Tears started to trickle down. Draco just watched.  
  
Then lent close, watching angry red marks spark to life. His tongue slid out of his mouth and at a leisurely pace, proceeded to lick up the trickles. Justin shivered again as Draco traced the pattern across his skin. Finally his mouth was brought again to swollen lips, and he kissed again. Soft and gracious this time. And so long it was timeless.  
  
When he felt the other boy responding- pushing shyly against Draco's lips, he was elated. Accomplished. Draco let him try. Let his want grow, until he felt the warmth wet of tongue against his lips. Timid exploration.   
  
Abruptly, Draco pulled away, and swept out of the room, leaving a shocked, tear-stained Hufflepuff, without even his cover-up dignity left.   
  
  
  
Harry seated himself with a bounce, next to Ron at the Griffindor table.   
  
"Where were you?" Ron demanded.  
  
"With Florence." He replied innocently.  
  
Ron faltered. It wasn't as if Harry was hiding anything. And Ron knew that they were the ones who were illegal- so to speak- but this was too much. He wasn't even trying to shield Ron from the gory details.   
  
Hermione grinned cheekily. "Oh yeah? What were you two up to then?"  
  
"Nothing much." Harry said, grinning also.  
  
"Hmmm." Hermione scratched her chin. "I wonder what that one codes for."  
  
Harry laughed and spooned out potatoes for them all. "Want gravy Ron?"   
  
"Mmmm." Came the mumbled reply.  
  
Hermione looked worried. "What's wrong?"  
  
Harry grinned, knowing that Ron couldn't tell the truth. "Oh, nothing."  
  
"Ok. Well that code doesn't fit."  
  
"What does 'sigh, oh nothing' stand for?" Harry asked still grinning.  
  
"It was meant to translate as, 'I'm secretly having an affair with my best friend, I'm jealous of his official relationship and I don't want to admit this to anyone, including the fact that I'm gay." The tone was dripping sarcasm.   
  
Harry's and Ron's mouths were open in bewilderment.  
  
"I may be your friends, but I'm not stupid or blind." She added without missing a beat.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"Oh, It was just too entertaining to watch you two come out with your pitiable excuses for sneaking off together." She said, smirking.  
  
  
  
Draco stalked down the empty corridor, stepping in and out of the shadows. He was waiting or an opportunity to break Justin more. It was such a thrill, his abuse instead of an abused. It was necessary in order to achieve what he wanted. It was simply a means to an end- it had reason. Right?  
  
Draco recoiled at approaching footsteps.   
  
Oh, it was just Longbottom.  
  
Followed by…  
  
Bostock, and Carrot.  
  
God!  
  
Draco moved to quieter parts and continued to wait.  
  
  
  
Ron watched Harry flop lazily onto his bed.  
  
"Harry?" He walked to Harry's side until he was towering over him.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Is this a serious relationship?"  
  
Harry lean up on his elbows. "Where did that come from?"  
  
"I…I've been thinking. Our relationship isn't really going anywhere. And…"  
  
"Ron, you know that I love you."  
  
"Hmmm…but you're not *in* love with me, are you?"  
  
Harry hesitated. He didn't know what to say to Ron without hurting him.   
  
"I like things how they are."  
  
Ron looked hurt. "Ok Harry." He turned away.  
  
"Wait. Come here." Harry leant up and kissed Ron lightly on his lips.  
  
Ron returned to his homework looking slightly happier and Harry rested his head on the pillow once more. Did he really like things as they were? No, he felt the barrenness of his soul before and knew still, that it couldn't be filled by this medley of half-lovers. And now the feeling had been awoken like a wound in a salty breeze.   
  
He felt hollow. What had he done to his best friend? Why should his own pain be inflicted onto Ron? He should have left things to be, when Ron was happy and he was alone. But no. He had to have it. He had to take away Ron's happiness.  
  
It wasn't intentional at first. And then he had realised that Ron loved him. Ron would do anything for him. Ron would break up the first love he had ever had, for Harry. It was a lust that survived on command. His command over others. He need to feel wanted- appreciated, for more than just 'the boy who lived'. They didn't know him really. Their worship for him was superficial and putrid. Harry wanted someone to step inside him and see him for what he was, just a boy. And Hermione had seen. And Ron had seen. And so had a few others. But it wasn't enough just to see; they needed to understand the loneliness and the self-pity.   
  
It was so nice to know that Ron loved him. Ron, dear Ron. He had given up the most sought after boy in school, just to be with Harry. Stepping from one secret relationship into another. It was all laughable. One big cover-up, and for what? To keep people happy.  
  
No. For protection essentially.   
  
  
  
Outside, the corridors were dark now. In the forgotten colours of the night, the battle for recognition continued in the small souls of every pupil at Hogwarts.   
  
  
  
A/N: Apparently my guest-appearance guest has decided to write himself into the plot, and now he is bound fast. Oops. Oh well.  
  
Thanks for reviewing part III :)  
~finite  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Forgotten dreams

A/N: WARNING: This contains some SLASH material.  
  
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.  
  
  
  
  
Part V: Forgotten dreams  
  
  
And so I said to her:  
  
How doth the fickle weather fair on your far side of town?  
Hath bird and bee both acknowledged it, and consented to fly down?  
From lightest autumn air unto its golden crown,  
Which soon will drop its many jewels onto ungrateful ground.  
  
  
  
  
Draco's even breathing held together the silence of shadows, which curled their way round him and the other still objects that lined the corridor. He could still taste the fear in those salty tears. And when the fear took on a different form; turned into respect and want…Justin made himself accessible to him. He had wanted Draco's kisses. That was over a week ago though, and he was yet again lingering in the indoor darkness, as he had on that first day.  
  
It seemed like a long time ago that Draco had pulled Justin with him into the shadows. And the routine had carried on through the week, with Justin coming to meet him every night. As Draco reminded him, he had no choice: not if he wanted a certain little secret to remain covered up. The Hogwarts committee made it known that they were adamantly fair when it came to choosing the Head-boy, but everyone had worked out long ago that the school could not afford to be fair. Sacrifices had to be made- Hogwarts' Head-boy could be nothing less than perfect. They represented *Hogwarts* after all.   
  
Draco cocked his head at the sound of footsteps.   
  
A milky white hand darted out to latch onto the other boy's upper arm. Justin stumbled in the darkness. He should have been used to this by now; it had been the same every night. He took a deep breath awaiting what this session had in store for him- what Draco had in store for him.   
  
A snaking arm wound round his waist and pulled him into the wall.   
  
"Hello Justin. Miss me?" The soft chilling voice hissed in his ear. He clenched his fists and hoped that Draco wouldn't hear his racing heart. His eyes were wide with apprehension.   
  
"Have you no answer for me?" Draco pressed the whole length of his body against Justin's making the boy shudder in response.   
  
"I've got you what you wanted." The quiet voice trembled in its guilt. Draco smiled an artful smile; radiant in the candlelight, as Justin pulled away slightly and uncurled his fist to show the tiny bottle in his palm. It was made out of impossibly fine-glass that, were it not magically enhanced, would have shattered under the force of gravity alone. The tiny amount of jewel-green liquid lay sinless on the bottom, sealed in by an equally tiny glass stopper in the top.   
  
He took the bottle in his slender fingers and held it up, his eyes focussed on the sparkling, clear green liquid. It was as cold and piercing as his eyes.   
  
Justin stepped back silently.  
  
"Thank you." Draco whispered, pocketing the bottle. He leaned towards Justin and cupped the other boy's face in his hands. "And I've got what *you* want." He pulled Justin down for a kiss, light and teasing. It was always the same; Justin would try to resist, until Draco would bite him mercilessly, and then he would comply. The kiss would deepen, with Draco being harsh. And suddenly he would pull away as if nothing had happened at all. This time was no different.  
  
Justin was breathing hard; the two figures were still pressed into the corner.   
  
"Did you have trouble?"  
  
"No. Snape was out when I broke in." Came the breathless reply.  
  
"Last night?"  
  
Justin nodded. "Draco…I've got to go."  
  
Draco smirked ruthlessly and kissed him again.   
  
  
  
"And she knew all that time."  
  
"What I find amazing, is that she wasn't angry at all."   
  
"If your Florence ever found out…"   
  
Ron and Harry turned the corner.  
  
"Why wasn't she upset?"  
  
"Hermione? Well, you never seemed that serious to me."  
  
"…At least she promised not to say anything."  
  
"I should hope not…She's almost enjoying it. Did you see how smug she looked when we told her that we were going to the library?"  
  
"Yeah, what did she think we were going to get up to?" Ron grinned, then stopped short, shock plastered all over his face.  
  
Harry turned to face the direction of Ron's stare.   
  
They both stood, still and stunned. Draco looked up at them from his kiss, blonde lashes hiding his sly and delighted look. When the kiss was finally broken, Draco continued to gaze steadily at the Griffindor pair. Justin turned around, confused at Draco's lack of attention. There was a momentary hiatus, then…  
  
"Oh shit. R-Ron wait."  
  
It was Draco's turn to look confused as Justin sprinted after Ron. Harry felt a little awkward as they just stood there in silence.  
  
"Potter."  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"What was wrong with the Weasel? Was there something I didn't know about?"  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. He didn't really have the right to disclose any of Ron's personal information to anyone- especially the sworn enemy. Then again, Draco also had a right to know since he had been… he seemed to be… in a relationship with Justin.   
  
"Justin was Ron's first and…"  
  
"…Ron was Justin's first," Draco finished, a look of understanding flickering in his eyes. He smiled inwardly. This was getting better by the minute; it looked like he wouldn't need the dream potion in the end. He clasped the bottle tightly in his robe pocket, feeling the cool glass against his cool skin while he stared straight into Harry's eyes, making him squirm. Was there any jealousy hidden in the green? Not really. Sadness maybe- this surprised Draco. He was Harry Potter for God's sake. He had everything. The potion would have to work.  
  
"I'll be going to the library then." Harry said finally and walked off looking clumsier than he would have liked.  
  
  
  
Ron heard footsteps behind him, which simply spurred him on. He had always been a good runner, with long legs, light footing, and good stamina. Justin, however, was just as tall, wiry and fast. By the time he caught up with Ron, they were both running across the school grounds, there shoes pounding the wet grass and sending loud beats into the quiet. Justin sprinted forward in one last burst of energy and managed to catch onto Ron's wrist.   
  
"Ron." He panted, pulling the red-haired boy to a halt.  
  
"Leave me alone, Justin," Ron spat, turning and shaking his wrist free from Justin's light grasp.  
  
"Ron, listen to me. I know this sounds stupid, but it's not how it looked."  
  
Ron smiled humourlessly.  
  
"Really…Let me explain."  
  
"Why should I? Why do you care- we broke up, remember?"  
  
"Of course I care. It was a mutual parting."  
  
"Mutual- my arse! You know very well, that you're the one who fazed me out. I wasn't going to wait for you to start caring again."  
  
"I told you why I couldn't see you anymore, Ron." Justin began to twine his fingers together in frustration. "I want to make something of myself- become Head boy. Prove myself."  
  
"Why couldn't I have been a part of that? Why couldn't *we* have lived that dream together?"  
  
Justin fixed his eyes on some unknown point in the distance. "You know why. You know the judges wouldn't accept a gay candidate. This isn't some fairytale Ron, and anyway, you had Harry."  
  
The deep dejection and pain in his voice, startled Ron. He took Justin's chin and forced him to look into his eyes. He remembered having to do this often. Justin was so shy and self-conscious that even eye contact was uncomfortable to him.   
  
"I was angry with you. You left me."  
  
Justin closed his eyes and frowned, trying to twist out of Ron's grasp.  
  
"And now, after all you said- after all you put me through…You go off with Malfoy!"  
  
"He knew, Ron. He *knew* what I was. I had to…please understand… Ron! Come back!"  
  
Ron gave him a disgusted look as he stormed back to the castle.   
  
  
  
Harry held his breath when he heard the door handle turn. Ron had been out for ages and Harry had been tempted to go looking for him, even though it was almost midnight and it was unlikely that he would be found in such a large castle.  
  
"Ron?" Harry whispered to the tall silhouette in the doorway.  
  
Ron walked slowly over to Harry's bed. He had been thinking about this conversation all the while he was roaming the castle in his anger, and had come to a decision.   
  
"Where have you been? Are you alright?"  
  
"Harry…this isn't working." Ron whispered back.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm tired of feeling like this." Harry pulled himself off the bed and motioned for Ron to follow him out into the dim lights of the hallway. They descended the stairway to the empty commonroom, which still had a burning fire in the grate, and chose the sofa nearest to the warmth. Ron picked up the black, iron poker idly, and proceeded to rekindle the fire into its usual cheerful self, while Harry simply looked at him, red hair glowing as bright as the flames.   
  
"Ron, what feeling are you tired of?"  
  
"I- I feel like… I'm worthless." Harry could see the effort it took for his best friend to say those words out loud. Ron eyes were glistening as he stared at the fire. "I've always been overshadowed. By my brothers. By you…"  
  
Harry gasped silently, feeling the need to comfort; wanting to take Ron in his arms and let him cry.  
  
"It was so good when I had Justin. I thought he loved me- was *in* love with me." He exhaled shakily. "Then he rejected me. Hermione didn't even care that I was screwing around with you behind her back." Harry's heart throbbed, knowing the awful part he had played- knowing what would come next. "And you, Harry. You didn't want me either. You were all just playing. You made me love you and then you just closed off."  
  
"Ron?" Harry finally moved across the sofa and cradled Ron in his arms. "Ron, you are not worthless. You will never be worthless to me. I love you. You're my best friend, and I'll always be there. And Ron? I understand why you want to break up with me. We work so much better as just friends."  
  
Ron stifled a sob and buried his face deeper into Harry's shoulder.  
  
"You may not think that I understand. But I do. The Dursley's made me feel exactly the same… I'm so sorry that I've done the same to you. I'm so sorry…" A single tear escaped from his eye.  
  
The two boys sat through the night, comforting each other in their shared misery.   
  
  
  
The tiny bottle shattered unrelentingly on the stone floor, a trickle of green leaking out and manoeuvring itself gracefully around the shards of invisible glass. Dry moonlight filtered through the dirty window, making the broken pieces sparkle ethereally, so that the stone seemed to be covered with fine metal filings.   
  
Draco gritted his teeth in anger, pushing the other bottles off the tiny desk and indulging in the inevitable crunch and tinkle of broken glass. Destruction gave him a sense of authority. The faded pages of the spell book lay open in front of him. The over-decorative script and worn binding betrayed its age. He turned to the small pewter cauldron behind him and inspected the contents. The liquid within was so thick that it was almost a paste. Damn potion. For once, Draco wished that he had studied harder in Potions. He still felt the sing of failure although the potion was an advanced level of magic and also dark magic. Large bubbles grew on the thick surface and popped suddenly. Draco made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. Taking a small pipette, he tried to suck up the spilled contents of the tiny bottle. On dropping it into the cauldron, the potion hissed a little and satisfactorily changed colour. Ah, this looked more promising. Draco chose a clear vile from the shelf above him and scooped up some of the liquid.   
  
Leaving no trace of the potion brewing, Draco left the unused classroom with the vile in his hand.   
  
  
  
AN: I think this story may be coming to a close. Please tell me what you think, or give me some suggestions as to an ending. I have the plot conclusion sort of worked out, but some other ideas would be great. Want to hear more out of a particular character or something?   
  
For readers of 'Surreal??'…I know I should be writing more, but I've kinda lost inspiration for it. Hopefully it will be back soon.   
  
Thanks for your reviews.  
~finite  



	6. Weak shade

A/N I would like to say thank you to my beta readers: Starfish Girl, Padfoot Lover and Just Silver. Thanks :)  
Please note- Ben is an OC.  
  
  
  
Part VI- Weak shade  
  
The air was warm and stuffy even though it was moving through the trees, blowing a maze of indentations in the uncut grass outside Hogwarts. The lake seemed dead under the low sun, glinting from time to time to ensure the world that it was still there, its surface flat and dull, but extensive; stretching out on the horizon and behind the gentle gradient of the slip-off slope. Draco rolled over languidly onto his front; the sky was making him dizzy with its magnificence. It was Friday, school was out, and so students could be found dotted around the large grounds. He could make out a couple of figures to his left, near Hagrid's hut, playing with some animal or other.   
  
As one of the figures approached Draco was delighted to see that it was Harry. Alone. Squinting, he could make out the fiery hair of a Weasley head, going back into the hut. Hmmm- Harry without Ron. Ahhh, he would have to make the most out of this situation. He spread himself delicately on the grass, letting the wavering stems partially hide his face and cast elegant shadows over his features. His black cloak protected his head from the harshness of broken reed stems. His arms lay open slightly and his shoes and socks lay discarded by the water's edge. Watching the upcoming shadow play over the slope, he closed his eyes and let his lips fall apart a little.   
  
The shadow stopped momentarily, covering his face, then passed over him. Draco pulled himself up onto his elbows in indignance, watching Harry's back retreat, swathed in billowing black fabric. The incandescent light from the sky lit the tips of Harry's black hair, and he felt the want building in him afresh. He didn't even look back! Draco had laid himself open to the other boy and yet could not get a reaction out of him. It made him furious, it made him needy and most of, it turned him on.  
  
He stared a minute after the tiny figure until it disappeared into the main entrance of the school. Squinting into the awkward glare of the sky, he sat up and gathered up his stuff. Still barefoot, he walked across the grass, cool and refreshing under his skin. From here, the Quidditch pitch looked empty and dead, like on those quiet mornings when the team would come out to practice. It was an intense feeling to be in the middle of this expanse of loneliness and knowing it would change in only an hour or so, when the match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would begin. It was obvious who the winners would be. It always baffled him, how the Hufflepuffs could persevere even through inevitable defeat. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself the respect this deserved. He liked the evening matches best; the new Quidditch lights cast bright beams over the pitch, but didn't overpower the beauty or mood of the night sky.   
  
He slopped into the nearest chair just below the commentator's position, and stared blandly at the horizon. The Forbidden Forest took up most of his view. It was a line of trees from here, dark and forbidding, but somehow at ease on this summer afternoon. Looking over to Hagrid's hut again, he could see red hair moving round the yard, possibly feeding the new batch of bloody blast-ended beasts that had just been got in. He thought he had seen the last of those damned things, but that giant oaf had decided on giving them another go. He still had the stupid scars from last time. His vision now turned to the huge fairy-tale image that was the castle. Even Draco, who had seen much grandeur in his life, could not deny that it was certainly a sight. Set in the midst of these rich but casual grounds, it was breathtaking. The first time he had seen it; on the boat on the first day, he had stopped thinking about that stupid Potter for a golden moment. The grounds were empty; all the students had retreated into the warmth and comfort of the castle.  
  
Now, through the window of the nearest tower, he could make out a bulky head. A thin stream of green smoke trailed from the dark spot and curled itself into lettering. Decorating the dull blue sky, the words 'Slytherin Rocks, Draco' formed from scrawled wobbly handwriting, unmistakably Goyle's. Draco grinned and waved as the head disappeared into the darkness and the lettering melted into the air. No, they weren't as stupid as they looked. He sighed deeply, taking in the fresh, cool breeze of a lazy wind. God, he wanted that damn Potter. But why, he could not answer. Still chaos in his mind, images of Harry floated into view. When had that awkward scrawny idiot turned into the awkward scrawny idiot? No, wait, that wasn't right.   
  
But that was just it- Harry hadn't changed at all. It was Draco that had seen the light. Harry was still as scrawny as ever- ok, so he had grown a little, but hardly noticeable when compared to the rate everyone else was growing. Oh, and he was still awkward. He never knew how to handle his fame like Draco did. Draco revelled in attention. It was his to control. Harry still blushed when people stared at his scar, he still ignored the stares instead of taking advantage of it, and he still cowered behind Weasley. Silly, silly, sweet Harry.   
  
A movement to his right caught his attention. He turned to see Justin walking with his head down, eyes fixed on the ground and a rake in his hand, which he dragged behind him. Here was another one. But his shyness was not the awkward kind like Harry's. It was graceful. Draco had been thinking about this a lot. They were both brought up in similar environments: family names, large fortunes, wealthy relatives and inherited mansions. He could see the inbred elegance, a mirror of his own, natural and charming. Pity he was a Hufflepuff. Pity he didn't have messy black hair and sparkling green eyes. Pity he wasn't unconquerable.   
  
"Oh, h-hello Draco." Draco remained seated, blinking up at Justin, a silhouette against the glaring backdrop. They hadn't spoken since the night Justin had run off after Ron. He had to admit he was curious. He hadn't realised that Justin had had a boyfriend before. And Weasley as well- my God. Weasley had been the one to break that shell! "That night…"  
  
"I know. He was your first, wasn't he?" Draco moved his robes from the seat next to him and Justin accepted the unspoken offer. They looked out at the scene together. Justin spoke quietly.   
  
"I loved him- I still do, I think." Draco smirked at this statement. "So I can't do this anymore. *You* can't do this anymore." Draco smirked again, then turned to the other boy.  
  
"Don't tell me you don't want it. I know you do." It turned into a whisper, which made Justin clench his fists together. Draco lowered his eyelashes, looking out across the field. With carefully concealed enjoyment, he noticed the red blot in Hagrid's hut, stock still at the window. Glancing sidelong over at Justin, his arm crept over the boy's robe until it was at his neck. Slowly, he pulled the fabric towards him, knowing that Ron was still entranced and mad. Justin struggled momentarily until Draco jerked roughly so that their faces were mere breaths apart. He trailed butterfly kisses over his jaw line, pulling at the fabric until it loosened at his neck. "You like this, Justin. You want to be used- admit it." Justin gasped involuntarily. "You just say stop, and I will."  
  
Draco was staring straight into scared and lust-crazed brown eyes. Justin gulped. "No." He whispered- then more loudly- "Stop." He fought free, got to his feet and ran off across the pitch like lightening, leaving Draco laughing softly with his eyes fixed on Ron, twiddling a small lock of jet black hair in his fingers.  
  
  
  
Ron watched with shock as Justin pulled himself free from Draco's grip and raced over the pitch. Knocking his shin on the oak table behind him, he yelped with pain and rushed out of the hut, to Hagrid's amusement.   
  
He finally caught up with him halfway down the entrance hall.   
  
"Justin, Justin wait." Justin slowed and turned round, to hear Ron's intake of breath at his teary eyes. "Hey, I didn't realise it was like that… I didn't know." Justin sniffed and smiled a little, wiping his eyes on his robe sleeve.   
  
Ron couldn't stand it anymore, and took Justin in for a big bear hug. The other boy stiffened and tried to push away. "Shhh, shhh. Nobody's here. They won't see you- they won't see us," Ron said comfortingly. "Do you want to and talk it over?"  
  
Justin smiled sadly and nodded, still scrubbing away at his tears. They walked along together, back out into the open air, and round the back of the castle. There was a shady spot where they used to sit, under the boughs of a huge Sycamore and beyond the prying eyes of other students. Both of the boys automatically went there, where their memories were stored- if memories could be stored in a place, it would be here. They had spent many hours talking and chatting, or simply enjoying each other's company here. It was their own personal spot and not even Harry or Ben came here.   
  
They seated themselves on the grass, damper than otherwise because of the weak shade, but still abundant and rich.   
  
"Talk to me." Ron said gently.  
  
  
  
Harry stared out over the grounds at the back of the castle, where his dormitory window looked over. He could just see the spot, hidden by foliage, and he *knew* Ron was there- maybe with Justin, maybe alone. He didn't want to disturb his thoughts and what if Justin *was* there? No, he should wait patiently. But it was getting dark and the Quidditch match was in a couple of minutes. Ron had been gone for an hour or so, missing dinner, but he could surely hear the noise from the pitch and would come to watch with Harry, right? Harry sighed, feeling a little rejected, grabbed his cloak and headed out to the commonroom, where a quite few people were still lingering. The Hufflepuff Ravenclaw matches were always less exciting because the outcome never changed.  
  
"Where've you been?" Hermione asked from her place on the sofa, curled up with Crookshanks. Dean frowned up at him. "Are you ready yet, your highness?" Seamus laughed prettily and continued stroking Crookshanks, who was purring contentedly on Hermione's lap.   
  
Harry nodded. "Shall we go then?"  
  
Dean frowned again. "We're still waiting for Neville and Lavender."  
  
"You shouldn't get so uptight Dean. It's only a Quidditch match." Seamus said, his eyes twinkling. "You're as obsessive about this as you are about soccer, or whatever it's called."   
  
Dean wrinkled his nose in mock frustration and threw a pillow at Seamus. This made Crookshanks leap from Hermione's lap and straight onto Seamus's front. The sandy haired boy toppled over from his kneeling position, laughing hard and rolling around on the floor with the giant ginger cat still clinging desperately to the front of his robes.   
  
Harry turned to greet Neville and Lavender, rolled his eyes and grinned crookedly at them.   
  
  
  
Justin looked up. "We can still catch the last half of the match." Ron smiled down at Justin, who was spread on the grass at his feet.   
  
"Yeah, sure." He replied as Justin stretched his long legs and got to his feet gracefully. He reached down to Ron's hand and pulled the other boy up until they were at the same height again. Realising his hand was still around Ron's, he let go hastily, and they walked side by side to the bright lights of the Quidditch pitch.  
  
They searched the sky at once, for any sign of Ben. "There he is." Ron pointed at the Hufflepuff chaser. "Ooh, that was a great dodge." The pair started to make their way over to the Hufflepuff crowd, where there was the most excitement, but after catching Harry's eye, Justin pulled Ron to the left. Seamus beamed up at them. "Heya Justin, you rooting for Hufflepuff I suppose." He said jovially, scooting over to allow them room on the bench.   
  
"Hey, you trying to crush me?" Dean shoved Seamus back playfully, beginning another one of their scrabbling matches.   
  
"Stop it!" Pavarti cried over their shoulders, leaning in and separating them. "Look! Fiona just saved that goal." Harry put the Omnioculars he bought at the Quidditch World Cup to his eyes.   
  
"Yes, I caught it."  
  
"Let's have a look, Harry." Justin said eagerly.   
  
"Hey Justin! Quick, record that dive!" She shouted.  
  
Justin turned to the Hufflepuff seeker just in time to see her pull off a spectacular nosedive past two bludgers, and Duncan, the Ravenclaw seeker, straight for the speck of gold hovering just over Ben's head. Fortunately, Ben heard the thunderous applause and cheering in time to fly out of the way.   
  
The crowds erupted as she pulled out of the dive, waving the snitch triumphantly.   
  
"My God." Justin sat down heavily with a star-struck expression on his face. "Tell me I wasn't dreaming." Seamus clapped him on the back shouting, "Yes, I think history has been made!" he shouted over the ear-splitting noise.   
  
A lot of the crowd had already rushed onto the pitch to congratulate the players. Even the Slytherins looked excited. That had to be the first time in over a decade- over 50 matches. Everyone was flustered and Ron knew it was going to be talked about for months afterwards. He beamed at Justin and turned to Harry. "You kno-Harry?" Ron furrowed his brow and leant over to tilt Harry's chin up. "Hey, Harry's fainted."   
  
The crowds had filtered away and the noise died down sufficiently to hear Ron announce this. Dean quickly went to Harry's side and felt his forehead. "I guess it was too much for him." Seamus chuckled as Dean tried to arouse some response: "Harry. Harry, wake up."   
  
"Harry?" Ron shook his friend gently on the shoulder. "Harry, can you hear me? What's wrong with him? He usually wakes up by now. Where are Fred and George when we need them?"  
  
"What do mean?" Lavender asked suspiciously.  
  
"Their notorious smelling salts." She didn't question further. "Harry? Oi, scarface!… My God, this is serious, look, he's sweating."   
  
"What's going on here?" A sharp, cold voice startled them out of their panic. Ron looked round to find Snape peering over his shoulder. Ron may have been tall, but it was nothing compared to Snape's height. I mean, God, he was the same height as McGonagall.  
  
"Sir, Harry's fainted and now he's sweating and he won't wake up." Pavarti supplied. Snape cast a sidelong glance at the unconscious youth and everyone automatically stepped backwards. With a faintly disgusted look, he opened each of Harry's eyes with a long pale finger, while shining the tip of his wand into it. The dim white glow showed dilated pupils. He also put his ear next to Harry's mouth to check for breathing, which, disgruntled, he confirmed as positive.   
  
"Well, I think Potter here is sick. Take him to the hospital wing immediately." The students paused expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for?"  
  
"Um…Aren't you going to conjure a stretcher?" Ron asked uncertainly.   
  
"I'm sure all seven of you can cope with one gaunt little boy." With that, he swept away.   
  
With help, Ron managed to take Harry to the hospital wing. It seemed like such a long walk even though their burden was so light. Halfway there, he had to hand Harry over to Pavarti and Seamus. When they reached the infirmary, they saw Madam Pomfrey transferring a blonde-haired boy from a stretcher to a hospital bed, with Professor Vector and Crabbe standing over them. They looked closer.   
  
"It's Malfoy." Neville said, voicing everyone else's thoughts.  
  
  
  
A/N Thanks for the reviews as always :)  
  
~finite  
  



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